Denouement
by stefan-thewonderboy
Summary: Bella decided not to let Edward change her. Thirty-two years later, he returns to Forks to find her. One-shot.


Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight or any of the characters, except for Emily; this universe is owned by the genius Stephenie Meyer. The quote on the gravestone is from _Macbeth_, and is owned by William Shakespeare.

Author's Note: Hi! This is my first Twilight fic, so go easy on me. It came from me asking myself what would happen if Bella decided she didn't want to become a vampire in the end, if she wanted to have a normal life with her parents and maybe a family and a career and babies and things. This isn't that unusual, hahaha. Anyway, I hope you guys enjoy it. I apologize if any dates are wrong, and I just assumed that the Volturi weren't a worry because the Cullens could simply say something like Bella had died before they could change her. Or something. Ahh, whatever, just go read it. :)

**Also:** I wrote this fic to two songs from the _Atonement_ soundtrack, one of which is _Vision_ by X-Ray Dog, the other of which is _Denouement_ by Dario Marionelli. I suggest you listen to them while reading, it really adds to the effect. You can find them both on Youtube. Enjoy!

**Denouement.**

--

Forks hadn't changed much. It had been thirty-two years since Edward Cullen had stepped foot into the small Washington town, and the rain still fell in a misty drizzle, the forests were still covered in unyielding green.

He had come alone. The other members of his family were somewhere in Alaska visiting Tanya, but a sudden rush of emotion and remembrance had been too much for Edward to bear, and he knew that her time was running out. It was difficult, sometimes, to stay aware of the fragile time-span of human lives.

When he pulled up to her home in his black Porsche, he struggled against the onslaught of emotions which threatened to incapacitate him. The house looked exactly the same, save for some chipping paint and a few trees which had sprouted up in his absence, one of which held a tire swing which rocked pitifully in the rainy wind.

As he approached her front door on slow-moving feet, dizzy with anticipation, he hesitated. Was this the right thing to do? Could either of them bear this type of reunion? He sighed; he hadn't come all this way for cowardice. After all, this might be his last chance. He knocked gently on the front door, expecting to be met with a long pause as her elderly body made its way to greet him, but it was only seconds after his hand had left the doors' surface that it opened, revealing to him a sight so shocking he nearly stumbled backwards in response.

Bella stood before him, but not the older version of her which he had been expecting; in fact, she didn't look a day over eighteen. Her dark hair was longer than he remembered, and it fell in cascading waves over her shoulders, and her eyes, usually the brownest of brown, glinted as green as the plant-life surrounding them. But this was impossible, Edward knew; it had been so many years, so many years, how could she not have aged even the slightest?

Bella looked as shocked as he felt, the apple, which had previously been clutched in her fingers, fell with a small thud to the floor beside her bare feet. Her mouth seemed to open and close several times before she took a step towards him and whispered, "Edward?"

He yearned to touch her face, to take her fragile body into his arms and make her alright, but something wasn't right. This simply wasn't possible. When he inhaled, he reeled at her scent, much more potent than he could have imagined, but more floral somehow, and slightly sweeter. It was almost enough to make him turn around, race back to his car, and speed off as quickly as his car would allow, so he stopped breathing and approached her.

Bella stepped back in fear, ready to close the door in his face. Edward faltered; he had forgotten how much time had elapsed since their last meeting. "N-no, please, don't be afraid, I…I won't hurt you." He knew his anguish must have showed in his face, as Bella's wary stance loosened and she opened the door carefully.

"I know. Would you like to come in? My dad's at work."

Edward nodded slowly and he followed her as she led him into the kitchen. "The living room is through there –" she began, but she stopped herself before continuing, "But I suppose you knew that. Hang on a minute, I have something to show you," and before Edward could respond, she was running up the stairs. He heard her shuffling around in her room, looking for something, and then only moments later she was once again standing before him, this time, holding a picture up to his face in her hands.

"You're even more beautiful in person," said Bella shyly.

Edward recognized the picture at once; Charlie had taken it of he and Bella before he told her he was leaving her for the first time. He clutched the picture desperately; he had never missed anyone or anything the way he missed her while they had been apart. It was like a disease that clutched at his insides, and made him feel colder than he had in over a hundred years. He felt a small, crooked smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. How happy she had made him…he knew when he left her that final time that he would never feel that happy ever again.

He glanced away from the picture, and he noticed there were some differences between the Bella in the picture and the Bella who was standing before him now. The girl's eyes were green, as he had already noticed, but also her nose was a bit smaller, and her lips darker, her smile wider than any he could recall.

"Who are you?" Edward asked her softly, dreading the answer.

"I'm Emily Swan. I'm Bella's daughter," she explained, her voice tinged with sadness. Edward nodded in understanding. _Of course_, but then, who was this girls' father? He was curious, but Edward knew better than to ask such personal questions, and besides, the answer was irrelevant. He had always hoped Bella would move on and find a way to be happy, and find someone else, someone normal and safe and human who would love her the way she deserved to be loved, someone who would never put her life in danger.

"Will you…will you take a walk with me? There's something else you should see." Emily put on her jacket and grabbed an umbrella from the counter, leading a pensive Edward out the door.

--

While they walked, Edward was lost inside of his own mind. He had so many questions to ask Bella when he saw her, so many things he wanted her to tell him. He let Emily lead him without even wondering about their destination.

"She told me about you, you know." Emily's voice interrupted his thoughts suddenly, and he looked up at her with tired eyes.

"Did she?"

"Yes, when I was very young. She was always thinking about you, so much, Edward. I think it made her lonely," and there was a distant smile in her calm gaze. "She told me you might come back someday, she told me that I should tell you…that…she loved you very much, and that she would never stop loving you. And she hoped you would forgive her for not leaving with you." Emily's expression changed then, she looked away, but Edward had already seen her emerald eyes fill with tears. "She never let you go, Edward. She wanted me to tell you those things in case you came back, and she…she couldn't tell you herself."

They had stopped walking before a small cemetery, and Emily's raised index finger pointed in the direction of a headstone just before them. Edward stepped out from underneath the umbrella, the rain soaking him almost instantly. His heart sank; he knew even before he reached it the name the headstone would read.

_Isabella Swan  
Loving Mother, Wife and Friend  
1988-2038  
"__Angels are bright still, though the brightest fell"_

"She died four months ago," Emily said from somewhere behind him. "Cancer. It spread quickly, though. She wasn't in much pain." Edward knew he should turn to her, offer his condolences, comfort her, do _something_ for her. She had just lost her mother, after all. But her voice seemed to be coming from somewhere far away, and before he knew what was happening, his legs gave out from beneath him and he sat there, kneeling in the mud in front of her grave, tracing the rough stone with his pale fingers, and as much as he wanted to, he couldn't make the tears come, because there were none. He trembled, touching the stone, digging his fingers into the mud as if it brought him closer to her, as if he could hold her simply by holding the dirt which surrounded her.

"_Bella._" It was the first time he had spoken her name aloud in three decades, and he felt something within him break. He could see her face in his mind as clearly as if she were standing right next to him, feel her lips against his own, smell her soft brown hair; right now he could hear the chime of her laugh and the melody of her voice, and, like he promised her, she would stay in his memory forever. He wished he could tell her now, all of the things he wished to say but never got a chance to. He wished he could take her face in his hands and make sure that she knew he had never stopped loving her either, that she was what made the sun rise and set, that she was the stars and everything and everyone he would ever love.

He tried to imagine an eternity without her, an eternity filled with memories that could never, ever be enough.

"I miss you," he sighed, and he realized then that this was all the world had left to offer him.

"Goodbye, Edward," said Emily tearfully as he turned to leave. She raised her hand to wave, but she simply held it there, raised as if in acknowledgement that this would be their final meeting. He responded by raising his hand as well, and then said, "Your mother was a very special woman."

Emily nodded. "I know."

"I'm sure she was very proud of you, Emily. Somewhere, I know she still is." His eyes were warm. As he disappeared from sight, Emily's only response was quiet, racking sobs. Perhaps she missed Bella just as much as he did.

As Edward Cullen drove away from Forks, he knew he would never return. Emily would be better off if he did not interrupt her life the way his family had with her mother. The small town was too familiar, and yet, not familiar enough. He wasn't sure where he would go now; he drove down an unknown road that led nowhere, and _somewhere_.

Maybe at the end of it he would find what he was looking for.


End file.
